


Coming Home

by yumekuimono



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky is my favorite character, Can you tell?, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5956354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yumekuimono/pseuds/yumekuimono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Winter Soldier rescues Captain America from the waters of the Potomac, he is no longer merely the Asset. But neither is he Bucky Barnes. Not yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> When I finished the first draft of this, it was like 1:00 am, and wow, did it need a lot of editing. It's much better now.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The man watches as Captain America _(Steve?)_ plunges into the waters of the Potomac, and has a brief, visceral feeling that they have been here before, only it feels queerly backwards, like it should be him _(Bucky?)_ falling to his death. It feels like he has been punched in the gut, except that something that trifling has not been able to hurt him this badly in a long time. Before he knows what he is doing, he lets go of the wreckage of the helicarrier hanging in the air above him.

When he pulls the unconscious hero—the man who had been his mission—the man he should have killed—onto the shore, only one thought is clear in his mind. He is no longer The Asset, no longer HYDRA’s tool. When he heard those words _(their words)_ , they had pierced through his mind to something at his very core. Something he had long forgotten. But the man standing in the mud of the river is not Bucky Barnes. He does not know the man ( _Steve._ ) underneath Captain America’s cowl, is certainly not his friend. The Winter Soldier has never left a mission unfinished before, and his actions now terrify him, even as he holds onto the conviction that the alternative would have been somehow worse. He runs.

They had left him enough autonomy that he is fairly certain he can physically survive on his own, stealing food and clothing as needed, and he has spent decades moving through the world as a ghost. But there is something else, something missing. He is adrift on an endless sea, even as he threads his way through crowds of panicked people, left hand stuffed into the pocket of his stolen hoodie. There are things, important things _(memories)_ , looming indistinctly in the back of his mind, as if he just needs to turn around and they will be staring him in the face, but every time he reaches for them they slip away. The man his mind names Steve had woken some distant part of himself, and he knows he can never go back to being nothing more than a tool _(a weapon)_ , but neither can he go forward.

It is several days before he happens to pass the Smithsonian Museum and see the banners emblazoned with the face of Captain America. Even as a picture, it touches something in him, and he sneaks into the exhibit. There is a whole wall dedicated to the man named Sargent James Barnes, the man Steve called Bucky, and the man who shares his face. (He wonders idly when the last time he looked in a mirror was.) He stands reading about this man from seventy years ago _(the man he had been, before HYDRA erased him)_ , stares intently at the footage of Sargent Barnes and Captain Rogers, trying to will himself to feel something, anything. All he gets is a vague sense of recognition, like recalling a story he had heard long ago. And then he reaches the end— _Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country_ —and suddenly his ears are filled with the rhythmic roar of the train and Steve is reaching for him, shouting, but he can’t reach far enough and Bucky is falling, falling… The world is black stone and white snow and then it’s blinding pain…and then he is gasping and shuddering, standing in a museum in Washington, D.C. and drawing far too much attention to himself. He flees, not slowing until he is hidden in a patch of woods, and then he is shaking and retching, curling into a ball on the ground and Steve’s shout is echoing in his ears.

When he finally stirs, the sky is dark, and he knows he cannot stay where he is. He has already stayed too long; Steve is going to be looking for him _(that stubborn punk)_ , and he isn’t ready to be found. Not yet. He starts moving, heading away from the city. He wanders aimlessly, moving as far and as fast as he can. It isn’t until he lands in Europe that he realizes where he is going. Where he has been going since leaving the museum. Once he does realize, he grabs onto it with all the single-mindedness of the Winter Soldier, and having a mission again anchors him. It is nothing like his other missions ( _this one is harder_ ), but framing it this way in his mind gives him just enough to latch onto and feel a little more stable.

He retraces the past seventy years, working backwards, piecing together his shattered memory. He wanders through slums and back alleys, posh districts frequented by the rich and powerful, forests and mountain roads in the middle of nowhere. He _(the Winter Soldier—the_ Asset _)_ has killed someone in each of them. The guilt broadsides him, doubling him over until all he can see is the blood, all he can hear are their pleas, words he had never paid attention to before resounding so loudly he thinks his head might burst. He scrambles to reach for the conditioning, to sink into its comforting numbness, but when he does it feels so _wrong_. His face is wet, but the sky is clear. He realizes that Steve wasn’t the only one on the bridge he recognizes. The red-haired woman—he had seen her before too. He had shot her, _through_ her, when she made the mistake of getting in front of his mark. She was not the only one to take collateral damage—was not even the only one to have survived—but for some reason she hits him harder than all the rest.

The disparate kill locations form a nexus leading him to the old HYDRA bases, some of which are still operational when he finds them. He does not leave them that way. He was a creature of their own making, and now they learn the taste of their creation, inhaling bitter ruthlessness along with burnt flesh and stone dust. He tears down the organization that had built him up until only rubble remains. It is retribution for all they made him do. It is atonement. It is not enough. He wishes they had let him die. Emotions come roiling back _(anger, resentment, hatred)_ , and he kills with a furious energy, abandoning the cold efficiency of the Asset. More than once he blinks to find himself kneeling amid wreckage, surrounded by mutilated corpses, and he has to stumble away on shaking legs to vomit. Some of the bases aren’t HYDRA, are Soviet and KGB. They are disused, and he is confused by them, until he finds the remains of the Red Room. Then the memories slot back into place, years of them flooding into his brain where before each piece was a challenge; they are only whole this time because he had not been wiped in between. This truth comes easy, and it comes terrible. He had been left out of cryo for so long because the woman from the bridge had once been a little girl called Natalia, and he had helped teach her how to kill. His face is wet again with tears, and he is shaking and sobbing, crying for all that he has taken away from her.

He walks through a ravine in the Alps and then across forgotten battlefields, watching young men fighting and dying seventy years in the past. He moves slower now, the memories farther away, buried deeper under the mind wipes. He knows Steve and the man with mechanical wings are following him, probably have been from the first base he destroyed. He lets them get closer, stays two steps ahead. He can’t face Steve yet, but he also can’t bear the thought of Steve losing him, though he is not sure why. He wants Steve to see him come back to himself. He doesn’t remember everything—there are gaps, little things he can’t begin to guess at, like what the rations had tasted like or what the Commandos had done when they had leave—but he thinks he has the major events. Mostly though, he remembers Steve, his bravery, his determination, the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled, the same as when his body had been too scrawny to match up to his heart.

He makes it all the way to Kreischberg and the ruins of his first rescue before he remembers exactly what they had been to each other. He rests against a tree for a moment and suddenly he’s back in 1943, a little ways out from where they had made camp for the night, too weary to make it back to the main force after their escape. Bucky pushes Steve up against rough bark and Steve lets him, too large hands resting at his hips as he pulls at Steve’s clothing, running his hands along this new body Erskine had given him. And then they’re kissing, devouring each other desperately, passionately, and Steve is pulling him around, pressing closer, and he knows he’ll have bruises along his back but he doesn’t care. It’s fast and dirty and a little bit awkward as they try to figure out how to fit themselves together again. Steve is everywhere, and Bucky feels like he is being engulfed, but he also feels like he needs to be. They don’t really have time for this—it’s certainly not safe—but they’ve been apart for too long, and they could have died, but they’re both still _so_ _alive_ , and right now that’s all that matters. He blinks, and finds himself back among the ruins of the facility, the taste of Steve a ghost on his tongue. He blinks again and similar memories flash by in procession, filling gaps across their whole journey through Europe. When he goes to move he gasps at how hard he’s become, and then again at how quickly he comes undone when he shoves a hand down his pants. He leans his head back against the tree for long moments, clutching at it for support, breath heaving, and suddenly it occurs to him that that’s the first time he’s done that in seventy years. He lets out a wry laugh, and realizes that it’s the first time he’s done _that_ in seventy years. It feels nice, so he doesn’t stop.

Finally he makes it to the heel of Italy and stows away on a container ship. He puts in extra effort to throw Steve off his trail _(the boat will take several weeks, during which he’ll be vulnerable)_ , but he’s not too worried. Steve is smart; he’ll know where to go. When the ship arrives in New York, Bucky heads for Brooklyn, wandering the streets he and Steve had grown up on. He walks by the cemetery where Sarah Rogers is buried, and the apartment where he and Steve had shared a bed and first confessed their love to each other in the middle of the night. He walks down alleys, remembers saving Steve’s skinny ass from whatever fight he’d picked that time, hopelessly outmatched despite all his stupidly good reasons. He passes the draft office, and thinks ruefully of how it had changed their lives beyond anything they had ever imagined. He walks between the skyscrapers and marvels at how the world has changed. He has seen them before, of course, as the Winter Soldier, has watched the world change from one mission to the next, but such things had not mattered to the Asset, and so he’s been insulated from the full effect of the future. (Except for advances in weapons—they had kept him up to date on those, and he had gotten a grim sort of satisfaction at being able to more efficiently carry out his mission, though now he winces at the thought.) He wonders how it is Steve managed to make it unaged to the future too, and what the chances were of this happening to both of them.

He walks by the Avengers Tower, sees Iron Man flying above the city once or twice. He’s heard of Steve’s new team and the Battle of New York, though he is a bit fuzzy on the details ( _flying robots? and where the hell is Asgard?)_. It’s a good bet that Steve is staying in the Tower, and if Tony Stark is half of what he’s heard, even through his preoccupation, he doesn’t have long before he is found. But at this point, it might not be so terrible. He’s not sure where else there is for him to go, what else there is to do. He is coming to the end of his mission, and he doesn’t have another one. It is not quite so terrifying as it was before, though it’s still nothing pleasant. Besides, it’s getting harder to avoid Steve, now that he remembers _(loves, though somewhere deep down he had never really stopped)_. There is a steady pressure growing in his chest and it takes him a while to identify it, but once he does it’s never far from his mind. No matter how rested his body is, he’s tired. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of trying to figure out who he was without any thought for who he is now. He wants to go home.

So he builds himself a nest and sets up to watch. Steve is indeed staying at the Tower, and while he doesn’t go out on foot much, he does go running _(though_ _for anyone else it’d be like sprinting a marathon)_ early in the mornings, before the pollution gets too bad. The man with wings _(Sam, apparently)_ usually follows at a slower pace. Bucky follows them over the rooftops to Central Park, but stops at the edge, waiting for them to return, not wanting to get too close. He’s good, but so is Steve, and it’s not…quite right yet. After a few days, he is satisfied of their routine, and he begins planning his approach. It’s an ambush, and all the pieces have to come together just right, but it’s also nothing like an ambush, and he’s far less certain of his choices. Then one afternoon, Sam leaves the Tower in a car and doesn’t return. The next morning Steve goes for his run alone, and before he can change his mind, he takes his chance.

He follows Steve a little way into the Park, then sits down on a bench to wait. Suddenly he’s nervous and he can’t sit still, kicking into hypervigilance, watching anything and everything that moves, wondering if it’s Steve. Which is ridiculous, he tells himself, he knows when Steve will be back, and he is a sniper and an assassin—patience and stillness are part of the job description. But he’s scared—not of anything he’ll do to Steve ( _not anymore_ ), but of Steve’s reaction. He isn’t even sure he’s recognizable; he hasn’t slept in an actual bed in almost a year and a half _(as near as he can reckon)_. He does finally see Steve coming around a corner and he stands, planting himself firmly in the middle of the path, dipping ever so slightly into the programming to force himself to be still. He pulls his left hand out of his pocket, pushing up the sleeve. Steve slows, then stops altogether, the slight confusion on his face turning into wonder.

This time when Steve says, “Bucky?” his voice is cautious and wary, and Bucky winces a little at having been the one to put it there, but he just replies, “Yeah,” and his voice comes out hoarse, but he can’t keep the smile off his face.

Then Steve is giving in, closing the distance between them and pulling him into a crushing hug. Bucky just buries his face against Steve’s neck and breathes in the familiar scent of him. They stand for a long few moments before Steve pulls back and looks Bucky up and down, holding him by his shoulders, taking in the dirt and exhaustion, face scrunched up like he’s trying not to cry.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, scrutinizing Bucky’s face. “I mean, from HYDRA, and—God, Buck, I’m never gonna forgive them. You’re not still…you’re okay?”

He smiles a little. “Yeah. The conditioning’s still there, and there are things I don’t remember, but…I’m better. I’m not their tool anymore.”

All the tension drains out of Steve at that, and Bucky thinks he might collapse from relief. He hugs Bucky again, and then asks, “Do you—I mean, can we—are you okay with going to the Tower? That’s where I’m staying now—but it’s also sort of the headquarters of my new team—we’re called the Avengers—”

“I know,” Bucky cuts him off.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want,” Steve adds quickly.

“I do want to. I haven’t seen a real shower in far too long.”

“You sure? Because it’s fine if you aren’t.”

“Steve. I’m done running. I’m sure.”

Steve grins and grabs his flesh hand, and Bucky smiles back, squeezing Steve’s hand. They walk back to the Tower like this, Steve trying to explain everything that happened since Bucky had fallen off the train. Apparently the punk had crashed a plane into godforsaken Greenland of all places, had only survived because of the serum, and was thawed out a few years ago. Since then he’d become the leader of a misfit gang of superheroes who were currently all holed up in the former Stark Tower now that SHIELD had been destroyed along with HYDRA. Somehow, that doesn’t surprise him—it’s typical Steve all over.

Steve takes Bucky to his personal floor _(“Stark Tower might be a monstrosity, but it’s certainty got enough room for all of us”)_ , where he has a long, long shower while Steve finds him new clothing. He doesn’t think hot water has ever felt so good. He also shaves and, after some deliberation, trims his hair, leaving it shoulder length and tucking it behind his ears. Bucky can’t remember the last time he’s actually looked at himself in a mirror, let alone cared about his appearance. When Steve sees him, he smiles and says he looks good. For the first time in a long time, he feels good too.

Then Steve takes him to meet the rest of the team, or at least the portion that is presently at the Tower. Thor is on Asgard _(Bucky still isn’t sure what that means)_ , Sam is back in D.C. _(“I’ll have to call him,” Steve says)_ , and Clint is on a mission in Sofia. The first person they meet, though, isn’t on the team, isn’t even a person in any normal sense of the word.

Steve just suddenly looks at the ceiling and asks, “JARVIS, where’s Nat?”

And to Bucky’s shock, the ceiling talks back. “Miss Romanoff is currently in the communal kitchen, Captain.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, then notices the way Bucky had tensed and tries to explain. “Tony built this program that’s like a real person, only it lives in computers. It’s called JARVIS, and…you know what, I’ll just let him introduce himself.”

The ceiling talks again, and this time he identifies the hidden speaker it’s coming from. “Greetings, Sergeant Barnes. I am JARVIS, an artificial intelligence created by Master Stark. Captain Rogers is not far from the truth when he says I am a person made of computer code. I run the Tower. Please don’t hesitate to ask me for anything you might need.”

“Um…hi,” Bucky manages. “Thanks.”

“You’ll get used to him,” Steve says. “He’s actually really helpful.”

Then they go off in search of Natasha Romanoff. The red-haired spy smiles when she sees them, but Bucky can tell it’s fake. He’s not sure anyone else could, but to him it’s obvious her guards are still way up. He finds himself recalling the little girl she had been and wonders if she remembers too.

“Well, looks like the ghost is back in the world of the living.”

He responds before Steve has a chance to say anything. “Yeah. Sorry for trying to kill you…twice. I’m not the Asset anymore, so…let’s just start at hi.” He doesn’t offer to shake her hand, and that seems to be right because he gets a cautious, “Hi,” back.

He takes a chance, switching to Russian and saying softly, “Forgive me, Natalia.”

Instantly, subtly, her demeanor changes. Behind her flawless façade, she suddenly seems brittle, as if hiding a deep vulnerability. Bucky supposes she is. When she replies, it’s also in Russian, whispering, “It wasn’t your fault,” before she turns on her heel and flees.

Steve looks bewildered. “I’ve never seen her like that. What did you say?”

“I asked for her forgiveness.”

Steve eyes him skeptically, but lets it drop.

They meet Bruce Banner next, and Bucky immediately likes him. He’s a doctor and a scientist, but he’s steady and calm and exudes a warmth that is the complete opposite of the cold sterility of HYDRA’s technicians. He seems to have an instinctual knowledge of where Bucky’s limits are, and doesn’t try to push them. He asks how Bucky managed to recover his memories, then mutters something that seems mostly directed at himself about _synapses_ and _repression of recall_ and _electrical induction of amnestic states_ which goes right over Bucky’s head.

When he’s done talking science, Bruce says, “If it’s something you’re comfortable with, I would suggest physical and psychological examinations. Preferably by someone with more experience than me—I’m not really that kind of doctor. But from what I can see you seem to be pretty alright, so if you’re not okay with it immediately it’s not a big deal.”

Bucky just says, “I’ll consider it.” He doesn’t think he is ready for that yet, but he figures he’ll have to do it someday. Especially if he’s going to join the Avengers in the field, which is something he definitely wants _(he supposes he’s allowed to want things now)_. After all, somebody has to watch Steve’s back.

When they leave and Steve tells him about “the other guy”, Bucky laughs. “We’re opposites.”

Steve is surprised, but happy to see Bucky laughing.

The last person Steve takes Bucky to see is Tony Stark, bringing him down to the engineer’s laboratory. He stops outside the door, suddenly worried.

“Steve,” he whispers. “I killed Howard. Does Stark know?”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunch into a frown, and he insists fiercely, “You didn’t kill Howard, Buck. HYDRA did. Tony knows that, and if he ever forgets I will beat it back into his stupid genius brain.” He can’t help but smile a little at that. Steve lets out a long breath and looks away. “I should probably tell you…Tony and Howard—they didn’t have a great relationship. Just…try not to mention it, okay?”

Bucky nods.

Inside the workshop Stark has music _(if it could be called that)_ playing at an indecently high volume and is tapping his foot to the beat as he works on…something. Bucky can’t even name half the things in the room, let alone guess what the tangle of wires and circuitry on the bench is for. Stark looks up as they enter and makes a vague wavy motion with his hand which has the effect of turning off the noise from the speakers.

“Cap,” he says, not unkindly.

“Stark.” Steve gives Tony a nod in greeting and Bucky gathers that they haven’t always been this civil with one another. “I’d like you to meet Sergeant James Barnes, my second-in-command during the war. Buck, Tony Stark.”

“Hi,” Bucky says.

“Sergeant Barnes, until recently known as the Winter Soldier, am I right?” Stark’s voice gives nothing away ( _well, it_ could _, but he’s too busy being nervous at the moment; he’s pretty sure that should count as an improvement_ ).

Bucky opens his mouth to respond, but Tony cuts him off.

“Whatever apology you’ve got coming, save it. I knew the minute you walked into this building. You really think I’d let you stay if I hadn’t already forgiven you?”

“Oh.” Bucky’s voice is small.

“That, and the fact I’m dying to get my hands on that arm.” Suddenly Tony’s voice loses all of its gravity and he looks a bit like an excited schoolboy. “I’ve got some awesome ideas for upgrades. We could make it lighter, stronger, give you more feeling and articulation—fine motor skills! It’ll be totally sweet, trust me. If you haven’t noticed already, mechanics are my thing, and I’m rather the best. Anyway, you’re welcome to stay with Capsicle, or if you want you could have your own floor. Whatever works. You don’t have to decide now.”

Bucky blinks, dumbfounded. “Uh, thanks.”

“No problem,” Tony says, already turning back to his project.

Finally there are no more people to meet, and they end up back in Steve’s suite, standing on the balcony. The sound of traffic drifting up from the street is louder than it used to be, and the skyline has gotten much taller. Neither of them speak for a few moments, and Bucky thinks the reason Steve insisted that he meet the team first was to avoid this awkwardness for as long as possible. After all that’s happened, they’re not really sure how to approach one another. He leans over and bumps Steve’s shoulder gently, smiling when Steve does it back.

“World’s a lot different now, huh?” Bucky asks, nodding out over the railing.

“I’m finding out it’s a lot the same, too.”

“You wanna show me how much it’s changed?”

“Mmm, right now I’m in the mood for something that’s stayed the same. JARVIS?”

The AI’s voice comes from behind their heads. “Your usual playlist, Captain?”

“Sure.” Steve turns to face Bucky as soft strains of music start to drift over the balcony. The song is achingly familiar, and though he only half-remembers it, it’s enough. So when Steve holds out his hand and asks, “Do you remember how to dance?” he takes it and says, “Let’s find out.”

Steve pulls him away from the railing, and it turns out he does remember, mostly. They sway in slow circles to the music, the rest of the world dropping away.

“You lead now,” Bucky remarks.

“Yeah…though I never did get that dance with Peggy.” Steve is silent for a moment, looking out into the invisible distance. Then he looks back and smiles, and the air seems to go out of Bucky’s chest. “But I’m glad I get this one with you.”

The song ends and Steve draws them to a stop in the middle of the balcony. They don’t step away from each other though, and Bucky is suddenly very conscious of the space between them. He has a vague sensation of heat from Steve’s shoulder through his metal hand, and it’s almost burning where Steve is holding his waist and his flesh hand. He can feel the calluses on the palm pressed against his own, can feel the frisson between their bodies as they draw subtly closer, and Bucky wants more. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers Steve’s hand sliding from his own, down his arm to his side, closing their circle, but he doesn’t pay it much attention. He’s too preoccupied, captivated by Steve’s face, eyes tracing all the familiar little details he couldn’t remember for far too long. Bucky wants to memorize them, wants to print the taste, the feel of Steve’s mouth on his own so deeply in his mind that nothing could make him forget ever again.

“Steve,” and it’s more of an exhale than a word. “I remember… ” He doesn’t ask the question he means to because he gets caught in blue eyes and if he had ever felt so stupidly grateful and undeserving of the heart shining through them, it’s nothing compared to how he feels now. Steve is giving him that look, the one that says that nothing in the entire world could possibly be as important as the man in front of him, and it’s obvious what his answer is.  Bucky feels like he can’t breathe, and he’s okay with that. He wants to freeze time, to stay here for eternity, and he also very much wants this moment to bleed into the next, but still he can’t stop himself from asking, “How…? After everything…”

Bucky immediately thinks he’ll regret asking, but Steve just gives him this sad, small smile. “You’re not the only one who came back different. After Redskull, I didn’t see much point to continuing on. The war didn’t need a hero to win it anymore, just soldiers, but the only one I cared about was gone. I probably could’ve found a way to divert that plane, but I didn’t. Instead I crashed into the Arctic, and before I knew it everything had changed. Even Peggy…she’s alive, but she’s not the woman I knew. She’s grown old, had a whole life that I know nothing about. People remember Captain America, but they don’t remember that scrawny kid from Brooklyn. Even if they do, they don’t realize that not so deep down, I’m still that kid.” He pauses, before continuing on more quietly, “Only now I have nightmares where I can see the faces of all the people who’ve died, and I can feel the cold creeping in, and I wonder if it would have been better if I’d stayed in the ice. Except now I’ve found you again, and I’m thinking maybe everything has turned out for the best after all.” Steve takes a breath, lets it out, smiles a little wider. “So…always. ’Till the end of the line.”

Bucky can’t help but smile back. “End of the line,” he agrees.

He isn’t sure which of them moves first, but their mouths are sliding together and even if everything else has changed that part of them still fits together perfectly. It’s slow and purposeful and it’s a perfect articulation of everything between them that needs to be said but neither of them have the words for. They’ve been seventy years as half of a pair, and out of those decades come apologies, and forgiveness, and devotion, and need. Steve winds his arms around Bucky, buries a hand in his hair, and Bucky just clings because this touch—it’s an anchor and a lifeline for both of them. They are very old and very young, intensely familiar and desperately new. They are two people stranded in a strange new world, but they’ve found their way together again and anything else is irrelevant because _(Bucky thinks)_ they’ve finally, _finally_ managed to find something like home.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought a lot about Bucky's voice in this and how it would change as he regained more of his memories and personality. So the use of present tense, contractions (or lack thereof), pronouns vs. given name, and expletives is all very deliberate. It was super fun, and an interesting exercise in creating tone and voice. Yes, I am a writing geek.


End file.
